


a little unsteady

by starlithorizons



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:46:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlithorizons/pseuds/starlithorizons
Summary: Michael's hidden domain has always been the rollerskating rink - a home away from home. Jeremy isn't so suited for the environment.Maybe he can fix that.





	a little unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> i have a dozen things i was planning on writing and none of them were this but this is what you're getting. plus i mean it's basically required for every boyfs author to write a pining michael fic, right. hope you enjoy
> 
> [michael voice] RETRO SKATES

The roller rink was always a place that had felt vaguely like home to Michael for reasons he couldn’t exactly articulate. The music they played was usually bad, the speakers too tinny; the other people were typically crass, their movements too erratic; the food was overpriced, though admittedly the greasiness was a selling point to an equally greasy teenage boy.

There was just something about the atmosphere, maybe. Something about putting his headphones on and shutting out everything else and gliding out wide, lazy circles around the rest of the skaters. Most of them struggled, or relied on the wall a little too much, or tried to show off by rapidly accelerating to supersonic speeds (only to slip and crash or run into an unsuspecting passerby or fling themselves into a wall or stray cone, which ruined the point altogether).

This was his element, somewhere he could move to his own flow at his own tempo and feel good about it. The way his red skates slid across the smooth floor was familiar and soothing, and he felt utterly in command of his surroundings.

Michael sipped at his slushie as Jeremy’s hands scrambled for the wall, his feet loudly clacking as he fought for purchase wheels didn’t provide, his legs tangling, something between a shriek and an animalistic wail already beginning to bubble out from his lips.

He reached out and pulled the poor boy to safety before he frightened all of the other children in the vicinity with his bellowing.

Michael’s domain was not quite so kind to his best friend.

For years, Michael had been trying to coerce him into accompanying him to the roller rink. It would be great! They could play some of the dumb claw machine games and eat the stupid food and roll around for a few hours. Then they could go get ice cream or something somewhere and probably crash at his house and watch a movie or something equally less taxing, because as fun as skating was, he had to admit that it was something of an endeavor sometimes.

Besides, the speakers always played the dumb radio pop songs Jeremy liked to sing to, and it was easy to imagine him weaving between people and belting out lyrics to Owl City or Carly Rae Jepson or whatever the hell was playing.

He surveyed Jeremy’s white-knuckled grip on the wall, the way that his knobby knees threatened to give out, the clench of his jaw.

This was not exactly what he’d been envisioning, if he was being honest.

“You made it out further this time!” Michael said with a grin, hoping to instill a bit of enthusiasm or confidence in the other boy. “You’re making progress!”

Jeremy only managed something between a short groan and a grunt, and Michael reached a hand forward to give him a slap on the back. At the last moment, he thought better of it and instead gave his hands a gentle, consoling pat.

“We could always head over to the little practice area, you know,” he offered, pointing to a corner of the rink where the ground had a bit more traction. “So you can, like, maybe stop busting your ass a little more?”

Evidently the idea wasn’t a winner, because Jeremy lowered his forehead to rest on top of Michael’s hand. “But, there... there are _eight year olds_ over there, Michael,” he whined, closing his eyes as if the thought physically pained him. Knowing Jeremy, it probably did. “That’d… God, that’d be so. _E_ _mbarrassing._ ”

Michael studied him for a few moments, soaking in the unadulterated essence of Jeremy Heere. His hair stuck up in just about every direction, looking just as frantic as he no doubt felt. His face glistening with a fine layer of sweat, a flew locks of hair stuck to his forehead - unsurprising, given that they were in the dog days of summer. The cardigan sleeves bunched around his elbows were further evidence of that.

_("Maybe you should forgo the sweater entirely?” Michael suggested as Jeremy struggled to roll the sleeves enough to stop them from slipping down his twiggy arms._

_Jeremy looked up at him as if he’d just cursed his mother, or proclaimed himself emperor of Sweden, or suggested he ask out Chloe Valentine. Pointedly, he looked down to Michael’s own hoodie, and then back up to his face. “Are you fu-” his eyes cut to the young children running past them, “fuhhhreaking kidding, dude? Besides, it can, like, be like, uh… padding, or something. For when I fall.”_

_“Pshhh, you’re not gonna_ fall _, man.”)_

Jeremy had ended up on the ground about half a dozen times in the past hour or so, but somehow he still managed to look _good._ His hair might be unruly, but it curled and framed his face such that he looked undeniably sweet, and his eyes might be closed, but his eyelashes were ridiculously long and fluttered against his cheeks, and his lips were parted just enough that he could pant out heavy breaths as he regained his composure, and the roaming lights kept falling onto him and lighting up his frame and picking out his best features and-

Alright, okay, right. Okay. Right. Proving yet again that Michael was the only embarrassing one here. He was no stranger to this ridiculous train of thought that had a tendency to careen off the rails - he’d been riding it since the summer before seventh grade. By this point they were good friends. Three whole years!

He ignored the part where that was pathetic and focused instead on his excellent skill of strong arming it back onto the right tracks. Say something relevant, something that was totally not gay, something-

“Right, because… _this_ isn’t embarrassing,” were the words that came out of his traitorous lips, for some reason, and he regretted them even before Jeremy withered before his eyes.

“I-I… well, I, like, it’s,” he started sputtering, his fists curling even tighter beneath Michael’s hand, his entire body trying to draw in on itself in a way that meant he was trying to disappear.

Fuck. Michael’s face curled sourly, and he mouthed _what the fuck?_ at himself. Yes, clearly, the proper solution to correcting his own out of control gay ass was to make Jeremy feel awful. Solid. 10/10. Smooth operator. He took a forceful drink from his slushie as if the cold could somehow activate his brain cells.

“I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly, moving his hand from Jeremy’s hands to instead wrap around his shoulders. “Or, well, like, I _did_ mean it, but. Without, like, the dickish sarcasm attached. You’re not embarrassing! It’s hard! And you’re getting better!”

Jeremy only pressed his lips together tightly, and it was obvious that the damage had been done. Michael could’ve slapped himself. He gripped the cold drink tightly in his hand and let the biting cold achieve a similar effect.

“How about we sit down for a bit?” he offered after a few moments of silence. “Maybe if you rest for a second it’ll help.”

Jeremy let out a heavy sigh in response, clearly unimpressed with his attempted condolences. “Sure.”

They inched slowly along the wall, Jeremy dragging himself inch by inch and Michael slowly following alongside him. It wasn’t until they were nearly halfway there that he realized this probably wasn’t helping Jeremy feel any better, and he elected to instead ghost along the wall behind him. After what felt like three eternities, Jeremy was stepping carefully out of the rink and hobbling over to a bench.

“Hey, at least you’re good at walking on the stoppers!” Michael punched him lightly in the arm as they sat (or collapsed, as it may be).

Jeremy huffed out a laugh, leaning on his knees. “I mean, I guess I’m used to walking on my toes anyways, so.” He shrugged a little, but perked as Michael slid the slushie into his field of vision. When Michael grinned in answer to his silent question, he gladly took it from him.

“You can have the rest,” Michael said as he stretched out his own legs, smiling again at the happy hum that made his stomach do a loop. That part of the plan went well, at least. Jeremy wouldn’t accept him buying a pity slushie, but he’d at least drink the rest of one - so Michael had gotten an order of blue raspberry in preparation for a moment resembling this.

After a few moments though, the glow of self-satisfaction faded, making room for the guilt to crawl up from his gut again. He rolled his heels back and forth as if he could run from it.

“... You know,” he said after a few moments, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, his voice forcibly casual, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just forget it an-”

“No!” Jeremy interjected, and Michael whipped around to find Jeremy’s face _excruciatingly_ close to his.

His eyes flicked down to his lips, almost subconsciously. They were downturned in a frown. Right. Back to the eyes.

“I mean, you’ve been trying to get me to do this for, for years! And, you, it’s just…” All of the heat that had been in his tone slowly cooled, and Jeremy’s eyes flickered all around his face before falling to his chest, the ground, his own lap as he pulled away. He opened his mouth again as if to say something else, but then shut it with furrowed eyebrows and a deeper frown. Finally, he carefully pulled one of his feet up and crossed it over his knee, spinning one of the big, clunky wheels idly. It shone in the dim light, spun quick and smooth.

“I mean, you… you got me these so we could, could skate together, so…”

It was true. After years of poking and prodding for Jeremy to come along with him, years of ‘ _I_ _don’t know_ ’s and ‘ _maybe_ ’s, he had finally gotten a ‘ _sure, fuck it, why not_.’ And with Jeremy’s birthday right around the corner, it had seemed like a fully appropriate gift.

( _“Dude, this box is like… heavy,” Jeremy said hesitantly, weighing it in his hands. “Is it a bomb? Did you get me a bomb?”_

 _“Yes, for your fifteenth birthday, I’ve gotten you what you_ really _want: the sweet release of death!”_

 _“Oh, well, thank God_ someone _isn’t disappointing me today.”_

_When Jeremy finally got around to tearing the wrapping paper off and ripping the box open, his jaw dropped. “No way!”_

_White, old-fashioned skates with bright blue wheels and laces - a perfect compliment to Michael’s own red and white pair. Granted, these were much less scuffed from years of use, but still._

_“I hope your feet didn’t grow to hobbit proportions since the last time I scoped out your shoe size, ‘cuz I don’t think they make skates that big.”)_

Maybe he’d been too caught up fantasizing the two of them holding hands and laughing and skating with matching skates to realize a gift like that came with a lot of pressure and expectations.

Not that it wasn’t still a cute as hell image, and not that he didn’t still want that to happen. But he could be ridiculous on his own time.

“Do you think you could still return them, even though I’ve worn them?” Jeremy’s voice was smaller than the music overhead, almost too faint to be heard, and Michael felt the guilt claw up his throat. Some part of it must’ve shown on his face, because when Jeremy finally glanced back up to his face his eyes widened. “I mean, I, I want to do it!” he hastened to add, hands flying out to either side of him. If there had been any slushie left, it probably would’ve been flung onto unfortunate bystanders to their left. “I do! I wish I could, really! I just, I can’t even _walk_ right, so.” His fingers found the star button on his cardigan, and he twiddled with it, face clouding once more. “So I don’t know how I could, like… uh, how I could ever do, you know.” He gestured back out to the ring, where people continued to coast in slow circles. “... Y’know, _that._ ”

Michael frowned and rolled his feet back and forth again, trying to formulate the words somehow, catch them. “I mean… it took me a long time to be able to get _anywhere_ , dude, so I think you’re doing just fine,” he said, picking his words slowly and carefully. He felt Jeremy’s gaze return to him, and he willed himself not to flush. “I mean, you should’ve seen me! I fell on my ass- oh, shit, I mean, my butt, too many times to count! Bruised, battered, sore! But I kept trying, and now I can skate loops around _all_ these suckers who think they’re cool.”

He shot Jeremy a grin again as he pointed a thumb towards the general public, and was relieved to find a laugh bubbling out of his lips. Reaching around, Michael pulled him close and brightened further.

“Seriously, man! It’s totally cool. If you wanna do it, we can keep working on it. You don’t have to be amazing at things you’re just starting, you know. We all start somewhere.”

Jeremy looked at him from the side of his eye, really examined him, and the intensity of his gaze once again left Michael fighting off the urge to fidget or blush. This boy would be the _death_ of him. Finally, Jeremy looked away, but he leaned against Michael with the smallest smile brushing his lips. That smile he did when he was desperately trying not to. “I guess,” he muttered, and Michael squeezed him tighter.

“I mean hey, you _sucked_ at Smash when we first played it.”

“Hey! I did _not!_ ” Jeremy weakly pushed his arm away, a laugh in his tone, but Michael wouldn’t let him escape so easily.

“You _so_ did! But hey, now you’re one of the most frightening people I have ever seen play. Even if you’re a Kirby main, and therefore soulless,” he added, pursing his lips and looking at his painted nails with an air of disdain. It cracked once Jeremy laughed and shoved him again.

“You’re just mad because I beat you with something adorable!”

“Dude, it’s okay, we all know you only main him because you like v-”

“No!” Jeremy shrieked, swatting at him and failing to stop his own giggling. “Stop! There are children here!”

“What, are you afraid of them knowing the truth about your vo-”

“Lies! Slander! You fiend! Villain!”

Michael raised his arms and backed away to fend off the flurry of slaps, first from hands and then from cardigan sleeves as Jeremy tugged them down over his fists. But his venture had been successful - the cloud that he’d stupidly conjured had been dispelled, and now Jeremy’s face was flush with laughter again, his eyes were crinkled and folded, and his voice was light. Anxiety spiral avoided - for now.

“The point! Is!” he cut in, grabbing Jeremy’s thin wrists and biting back his own laughter. “You just need some practice, dude, and then you’ll be able to meet _all_ of these people in the pit. Skates only, no items, Final Destination.” Overhead, the song switched, and so too did Michael’s train of thought. He looked up to the ceiling as a plan formulated, and he grinned back to Jeremy with enough intensity that it gave away his scheming. Jeremy already looked tentative, and he hadn’t even said anything yet. “Hey, you like this song, don’t you?”

“What?” Jeremy paused, tuning into the background sound for a few moments before his eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah, this is one of my favorites.”

“Perfect!” Michael leapt back to his feet and held both of his hands out, still smiling. “Then let’s get back out there!”

“Wh- Like, right now?”

“Yeah! Good mojo, come on! Before the song ends!”

Michael tugged him back out onto the rink, tossing their empty cup on the way. At first, he let Jeremy cling onto the wall with the same amount of timidness he’d shown the entire night, but finally, he pushed himself about a foot away and held out his arms.

“Come on! Just push off towards me, it’ll be fine. You got it! I’ll catch you.”

Jeremy looked towards him and bit his bottom lip, clearly unconvinced. Michael waved his arms in a way he hoped was encouraging, fighting off the urge to tease Jeremy and call to him like a frightened animal, because that would definitely be weird and ruin this whole thing he had going. After a few moments of hesitance, however, Jeremy repositioned himself so that his back was towards the wall. He closed his eyes and braced himself, whispered something - was that a _prayer?_ Such little faith in his _best friend_ \- and finally pushed himself forward. Evidently, he misjudged the force needed, because his expression definitely read _I am moving too fast and I will die._

Ever the savior, Michael caught his hands as promised, easily enclosing Jeremy’s wiry digits in his larger ones. “See! You’re fine. Now, just breathe.” Slowly, he began to move backwards, pulling Jeremy along with him.

Jeremy gripped onto him tightly, his fingers strong enough to probably bruise if he really put his mind to it, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. After a few seconds his eyes shot open in panic as he wobbled, threatened to collapse in a heap-

But Michael rolled onto the stopper on his toes and caught him, pulling him back up. “Easy! You’re overthinking, Jer. Just listen and breathe.”

He started to murmur the lyrics under his breath as they went, and that was enough to drag Jeremy’s gaze up from their feet, to his lips, finally to his eyes. And the smile that worked his way slowly across his face was enough for butterflies to multiply in Michael’s stomach until he was afraid they might carry him across the room - though Jeremy probably just found the relevance of the lyrics funny and nothing more. That was it.

After a few lines, Jeremy joined in softly, raising his voice enough that Michael could hear him above the other skaters. The tension in his shoulders slowly melted away, and he let Michael lead him slowly.

_“‘Cause I’m a little unsteady. A little unsteady…”_

Michael tugged him a little closer, started to move backwards a little faster, careful to avoid any other skaters who might come too close. Like this, it was easy to think of them as dancers, maybe, easy to block out the other chatter and laughter and slide of skates. Instead he could just study the way that Jeremy’s hair bounced as he moved, could make constellations in the flecks and marks on his skin, could memorize the way that his eyes folded and squinted when he laughed, could appreciate the gentle way his voice carried the melody.

The rest of the rink revolved around some unseen gravitational force, all at different speeds but still contained within the same ring. The two of them, though, were somehow removed, comets slowly tracking through their own empty space.

And they had about a minute and a half of that. Enough time for Jeremy to work up the courage to start moving his feet a little bit, too, so that Michael wasn’t doing all of the pulling, enough time for Michael to wish that the moment could last forever.

But then the song ended and bled into another one, and Jeremy pushed forward a bit too far, moved his feet a little bit wrong, and ended up flailing again. He threw out his arms without thinking, let out a less than attractive squawk, nearly crashed again.

Michael managed to reach out and catch him again, arms wrapped securely around his waist. Jeremy sagged as the panicked air flooded out of him, and they were face to face again, noses nearly touching. His gaze darted past Michael, to the bridge of Michael’s glasses, and then finally to his eyes, his face flushing so red that Michael could practically _feel_ the heat radiating off of him. Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but closed it a moment later, looking something like a fish out of water - but something cuter than a suffocating fish, maybe. A frog? Frogs were cuter.

The air between them was too charged with, with _whatever_ , for him to be debating whether his friend looked more like a fish or amphibian, but that was basically the only thing keeping his heart from beating out of his chest. But no, no, it didn’t matter. He just had to fix it again. But, like, _better_ this time.

“Get a little overconfident?” Michael supplied for him, raising his eyebrows.

Jeremy sputtered again, opened his mouth, closed it. Finally, he let out another laugh that was enough to make Michael’s heart utterly melt. “Lost my mojo,” he finally said, meekly.

Michael laughed again, relieved that this attempt at restoring balance hadn’t sent both of them spiraling again. “Well, that’s alright. That’s what I’m here for!” He carefully unwound his arms from Jeremy’s waist, instead letting his hands rest carefully on his sides. “I won’t let you fall.”

Jeremy slowly moved his own hands to rest on Michael’s shoulders, and he raised a single eyebrow, arching it high because it always annoyed the _hell_ out of Michael, who could only ever pull that expression when he wasn’t trying. “What, like those other five times you didn’t let me fall tonight?” he scoffed, and Michael laughed awkwardly.

“Okay, well, I might have lapsed in my duty. But not anymore! No slushie to distract me now,” he joked, as if anything could really distract him from the wonderful disaster that was his terribly lanky best friend.

Jeremy smiled, slowly pulling away so that he held Michael’s arms again rather than embraced him. Despite the distance between them now, he somehow didn’t feel much farther away.

“You know… I’m not really that worried.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'll probably end up drawing something for this too but for NOW just take it. come swing by @[starsketch](http://starsketch.tumblr.com) if you wanna keep an eye out or if you just want to yell at me to work on the right things
> 
> thanks for reading this silly piece!
> 
> EDIT:  
> [here's a fic cover!](http://starsketch.tumblr.com/post/164691389915/michaels-hidden-domain-has-always-been-the)


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